


last touch of your hands

by atonalremix



Category: Code:Realize ～創世の姫君～ | Code: Realize - Guardian of Rebirth (Visual Novel)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Competency, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 02:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17051465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atonalremix/pseuds/atonalremix
Summary: Even during moments of peace, when they have zero need to fight and when they're fooling absolutely no one with their true intentions – Cardia and Van Helsing still seek opportunities to train together.





	last touch of your hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writteninweakness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninweakness/gifts).



Ever since Twilight had formally disbanded, peace had set over Steel London. People no longer looked over their shoulders while shopping on Bond and Oxford Street; foreign officials once again called upon the Queen at Buckingham Palace; and throngs of tourists swarmed the streets at every corner. Punch and Judy shows had once again returned to Covent Garden, and the government was even talking about converting the underground sewers into a train system that connected disparate neighborhoods.

(“They want to call it the Tube,” Victor had told her upon returning from a late-night meeting, “But between you and me, I’m not so sure that idea will pan out.”)

The bustling city had returned to life. Even the boardwalk glittered with a new shine, and the buskers' music sounded that much sweeter and warm - full of hope and promise for a rosy future.

Yet the memorials tucked in alleyways – the flowers lying by busy intersections, the locks attached to chain links along every bridge – reminded everyone of the lives sacrificed to restore the calm. Each flower, each lock, was a soldier who didn't return home that night. Whether they pledged their allegiance to the Queen or Twilight, they had lives and families outside of the chaos.

Everyone did, Cardia realized. She might have only had Father in the beginning, when she was sleeping in Wales, but now, after long walks on the boardwalk or through Hyde Park, she returned home to a bustling, lively manor where six other people welcomed her with open arms. Her boys had become her entire world, and as long as peace hummed in the background of their lives, she would have all the time and opportunities to remind them.

Their lives might tear them into different directions, and their professions might bring them opportunities that forced them to prioritize work above all else. Yet they would return home every night for a shared homemade meal, or if they had prior engagements, they would drop by her study in the morning to wish her a good day. Their presence lingered long after they had left - Victor's test tubes, Impey's homemade lunch boxes, Lupin's magic tricks, Saint-Germain's freshly brewed teas, and even Van Helsing's journals were scattered across every corner of the manor.

This constant humming was a relief. It should have been a relief. No one wanted her or her Hologenium anymore. She was free to live her own life and to define herself on her own terms. Yet, despite this promise, Cardia couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this would fade into another war or act of political strife.

Steel London was home to millions of people, each with their own unique perspective on the world. It would only be a matter of time before the next Isaac Beckford rose from the ashes, and it would only be a matter of time before another scientist sought to master the formula behind Van's Hidden Strength.

Van had agreed with her, when the mere idea had been brought upon over one of their family dinners. When this many people co-existed with tumultuous, contentious perspectives, the unspoken calm wouldn’t last. It never lasted.

“Yeah, and it sure won’t last much longer if you wedge your way into my kitchen,” Impey had finished for him, shoveling an entire sandwich into his mouth and gulping it down in one bite.

Van scowled, elbowing Impey with unnecessary - and almost violent force - and without thinking, Cardia had laughed at them along with the rest of her family.

"He's got a point," Lupin had added, once the laughter subsided. His smirk grew wider, as if he were announcing the punchline to a new joke, "We didn't know that your 'human weaponry' extended into the kitchen."

Van Helsing's eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and Cardia couldn't help it - she laughed again, encouraging everyone else to cackle at her poor beloved's misfortune.

Dinners were never boring. If it wasn’t Van insisting on cooking for his beloved, it was Impey and Victor experimenting with cleaner fuel for their poor car, or Lupin practicing a new magic trick and “randomly” pulling her stoic beloved from their audience of six.

(“Promise me you actually remembered the keys this time,” Van would huff every time Lupin threw him into a box, and Lupin would laugh with an air that implied he never would.)

Her family may self-inflict chaos upon one another like a pack of kindergartners, but they did so with undying, enduring love. They relied on each other, like the pillars of London Bridge, and they had weathered the worst that Twilight had to offer - the faceless soldiers, the supposedly undead Finis, the schemer that planted Hidden Strength inside Van Helsing. They had survived, and their friendships had grown that much stronger for it. 

A few months ago, Van wouldn't have huffed and puffed at Impey like a Big Bad Wolf. Now, he was comfortable enough to shove Impey out of his chair. Delly wouldn't have made faces at Saint-Germain, and Victor and Lupin wouldn't be comparing notes about a recent heist. No opponent would stand a chance against them. Even if said opponents happened to be each other and Van’s poor, poor attempts at what passed for cooking. 

As they engaged in mock warfare, screeching at each other at the top of their lungs, Cardia couldn't help being reminded of her training sessions with her boys, and the skills they had imparted upon her. Twilight and the mafia may not be knocking at their door, but it really was a matter of time before the next threat decided to pounce upon her and her loved ones. It was also a matter of time before she lost all of her hard-earned skills, and she wasn’t going to squander the opportunity to practice. The boys wouldn't miss her for too long, given their conversations. 

Or, well, she would be surprised if they did, given that she wouldn't be more than a minute's walk away. So once everyone finished dinner, leaving young Delly on cleaning and dishes duty, Cardia turned towards the door.

“I want to get some practice in, so I'm going to the range outside and fire some rounds,” she called, resting her gloved hands on the door frame. “Does anyone want to join me?”

Victor shook his head, his expression turning apologetic. “Thanks, but Impey and I are still puzzling out calculations for the submarine we're building.”

“Hey!” Impey screeched from beside his best friend, “You can’t just volunteer me without asking - _Mmpfh!_ ”

Lupin grimaced, lifting his foot as he glanced over at his pocket-watch. “Likewise. I’ve got a gig to prepare for."

“Sisi and I could watch,” Delly offered, grabbing the rest of the plates and turning towards the kitchen. “I’ve always told him that in order to be a good Lord of Darkness, you need to know how your minions fight.”

Everyone - Cardia especially - laughed into their hands.

"You don't have to, Delly. I know you're busy with cleaning duty." Cardia beamed, waving his offer off with both hands. "You need to finish your work, and you definitely need Sisi in there more than you need to cheer me on."

“She's right, and really, Cardia, that’s sweet of you to offer,” Saint-Germain added, sipping from one of his numerous tea cups, “However, I’ve been wanting to finish this novel for a while, and I won’t have much time in the weeks to come.”

Van Helsing glanced around the table - first at Victor and Lupin’s expectant faces, then at young Delly juggling several plates in his arms, then back at Cardia, before allowing himself a sigh.

“I’ll be out in ten,” he said, his lips twitching upward in a faint imitation of a smile. “Save some targets for me.”

 

 

Ten minutes had passed. Then twenty. Then twenty five, and Cardia couldn’t hold out much longer. Something important must've held up Van Helsing. Punctuality mattered to him more than anything. Time is money, and money is time, he had once imparted upon her before sliding a pocket watch into her jacket. She stared at that same watch now, before slamming it shut. Whatever had held him up wasn't something she could fret about anymore.

She promised herself a light training session. She would fulfill that promise, even if it only lasted a few minutes. So she prepared her revolver, counting her rounds and various types of bullets - actual bullets, rock salt, shrapnel, and the other odds-and-ends Van Helsing had provided for her.

Then she loaded the first round, aiming her revolver at the bullseyes her family had set up many, many months ago. Their red color had long since faded, but their clear circular patterns were bright, even at this time of night.

Cardia took a breath, steadying herself - feet shoulder-width apart, shoulders straight, arm at comfortable angles - and firing with her fingers.

The bullet whizzed past the target, landing among the grass and spooking the wildlife into all directions.

“You missed.”

Van Helsing stood behind her, his boots crunching on the leaves around them. He leaned in, his breath tickling the nape of her neck as he re-adjusted her arms and pointed her revolver towards the white bullseye.

Her own breath hitched as his gloved hands grazed the thin fabric of her sleeves.

A few months ago, she might’ve accepted his assessment. A few weeks ago, when Twilight’s soldiers still loomed in the shadows, she might have buckled down and trained even harder. She might have taken his words as the gospel truth. Van Helsing lived and breathed warfare like Lupin to deception, Victor to science, and Impey to innovation. If anyone would push her into learning how to survive and outrun Twilight, it would be Van.

Now, she could feel the heat from her Horologium rising. Her shirt couldn’t conceal its bright blue glow for much longer, nor could it retain her rising heat. (If she had a heartbeat, would she be hearing it right now? Beating faster and faster as Van Helsing remained beside her, his chest rising and falling in sync with her own?)

“Cardia.” His voice rang through her thoughts like one of her bullets. “We’re going to try again. Press down and –”

She fired. The bullet soared through the air, piercing the bullseye and landing in the tree trunk behind them.

Van’s laugh rang through the fields - a real, genuine laugh that made his entire body shake - and for the first time since they started training in this surreal and otherworldly quiet, Cardia felt relief wash over her.

“Is everything okay?” Van peered back at her with a furrowed brow, pulling in even closer. “First you insist on training after dinner when there's no need, and now you’re burning up like you have a fever…”

She swallowed, forcing herself to stand still at his touch. At how the back of his gloved palm was pressed against her forehead, at how thin layers of leather and cloth separated them from each other even now.

This hurt. This hurt more than she expected it to, and her Hologenium was positively scorching, illuminating her chest through the thin white fabric of her shirt.

It had been months since Van had confessed, since their lives had found peace, and Impey and Victor were no closer to a cure than when they had first met her. Victor had explained some of the science to her, when he was pulling one of his infamous all nighters.

(“The half-life of your poison is incredible,” Victor had told her with the breathless awe of a scientist. “Typically, arsenic, cyanide, those don’t last in the body for more than 10 hours at any point in time, but yours… yours sticks around and accumulates. It’s beyond our current understanding of biology.”)

A lot of things were beyond her current understanding of biology. Her scorching Hologenium wouldn’t cool as long as Van Helsing lingered beside her, nor did her bones feel weary after feeling the recoil from the smoking weapon. Worse, she couldn't fathom why Van Helsing wanted to stay with her. Why he refused to remove his hands from hers, why he unloaded her gun, and why he set it back into her holster.

She wanted him - she wanted him with every inch of her being - but she couldn't feel his warmth. A thin layer of fabric, of glass, of even the cool metal of a gun, would have to separate their skin.

This stupid, irrational, burning terror would remain unspoken as long as he stood there, resting his head along the crook of her shoulder. In her worst nightmares, she feared that Impey and Victor wouldn't find a foolproof cure, and Van would find someone else with whom he could start a family.

But he wasn't moving.

"Cardia?" His voice was dry, almost hoarse. "What's the real reason you pulled me out here?"

Perhaps, she realized as she leaned into him and heard his rapid heartbeat, he wasn't as immune as she thought. That maybe he had that same stupid, terrible fear haunting the corners of his brain. That one day, the poison would grow to be too much - and that their love, as enduring as it was, would crumble in her hands.

"I wanted to train."

"You could've trained earlier, while I was at work with the Marquis." He scoffed, pulling her into a backwards embrace. Once again, the thick fabric of his coat brushed up against her. "But you waited for me. Delly told me so before I came out."

Foiled by the Lord of Darkness and his most faithful minion. Cardia could feel her cheeks heating up as she squirmed, pulling his arms even tighter around her. She almost - she wanted to envelop herself in his arms, to forget the imaginary threats her brain cooked up.

"I wanted it to be like old times," she found herself saying, closing her eyes and inhaling his musky cologne and the kitchen's sweet orange-scented soap. "I wanted us to train together because when we do..."

He didn't hesitate to touch her. He didn't hesitate to adjust her arms, or direct her pose into a fighting stance. He didn't hesitate to throw her halfway across the field, though he did hold his breath until their eyes met again. He probably didn't realize how little he thought about touch, let alone how he encouraged her skirmishes and tumbles when they fought.

Maybe she had been foolish in thinking that his new job would leave him time and opportunity for them to curl up on each other, or for her to love him in all the ways she knew how. Even when they danced along to the buskers' violins, he maintained a safe distance. His hands brushed against hers, never quite intertwining.

They were both afraid, she realized, as she pulled back and stared into his horrified eyes.

"I'm sorry." Van Helsing bowed his head, pulling himself to his full height as he regarded her with new eyes. "I didn't realize you would've taken my self-restraint for something else entirely."

"Self-restraint?" Cardia blinked back genuine surprise. "What do you mean?"

Van Helsing pulled out a sheer, white handkerchief - one embroidered with Delly's initials - and pressed it to her lips. Keeping his shaky hands as steady as possible, he held it there, ignoring the look on her face.

"This," he said, before leaning in and brushing his lips against hers.

Despite the transparent fabric, despite the rough force of his lips sliding into hers - she laughed into the kiss, relishing his warmth. She wrapped her arms around the nape of his neck, pulling him close. Her legs curled up around his, and they toppled onto the ground beside her equipment.

Cardia didn't know how long they lay there. She didn't remember when the fabric tore into two, nor did she remember when Van Helsing had to pull away to breathe. He gasped for air, adjusting the handkerchief again before kissing her again.

She didn't want to let go. She didn't want to return inside and remember their reality, but the torn fabric was dissolving into nothing. Van Helsing's hands were slipping - and as his glove fell off his fingertips, the edge of his palm met her cheeks.

His hand was smooth. It smelled of soap, of strong detergent, and of his cologne. Yet like the fabric, it was turning a sickly blue-ish purple color and it was bruising and –

It was bruising.

Cardia pulled back and rolled over, landing into Van Helsing's arm.

"We shouldn't have," she found herself saying, swallowing her fear. "We really, really shouldn't have –"

"It was worth it." Van Helsing's eyes twinkled at her as he slipped his glove back on. His voice was light, despite the searing pain he must've felt through his veins. He ignored it all as he looked at her, as his lips once again caressed the edge of her scalp. He ignored the world entirely, as he whispered in her ear, "I promise, Cardia - this won't be the last time our hands touch."


End file.
